Beneath Every History, Another History
by Lirael Alpha Orionis
Summary: Lix shows up at Randall's flat after the events of 2x06.


Author's Notes: This is likely part one of a series. Stay tuned! Title from "Wolf Hall" by Hilary Mantel.

* * *

Lix was fairly drunk by the time she got to Randall's flat, and given how capably she could hold her liquor, that was saying something.

Her initial knocks went unanswered. She wasn't sure what time it was, or how long it had been since she'd left the hospital.

The front door finally swung open to reveal Randall in his nightclothes, and Lix blew a puff of smoke in his general direction. She almost offered him a drink from her mostly empty whisky bottle, and then remembered he didn't drink. Oh well. She'd brought it for herself anyway.

"Evening," Lix said.

"Do you know what time it is?" Randall asked.

"I do not. Aren't you going to ask me in?"

There was a brief pause and Randall stepped aside, allowing Lix to proceed him up the stairs. He locked the door and followed her.

"What are you doing here?" He said.

Randall had not expected Lix on his doorstep at 2am. Given everything that had happened, discovering their daugher was long-dead, the scene in his office, he'd half-expected to never see her outside the BBC again. He wondered if Freddie's attack had been the straw to send her here. No one knew if Freddie would survive, and there was nothing to do but wait and see. It had been late when they'd left the hospital. Bel had stayed.

"Do I need a reason? Can't I stop by and visit an old friend and colleague?" Lix stumbled slightly and thunked her whisky bottle down on the table harder than she'd intended; she hadn't been exactly sure where the table was.

"Lix."

She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and waltzed toward him. "You're even more handsome than you used to be," she said.

She gripped the lapels of his housecoat and rubbed the soft material. She was in his personal space, smelling of alcohol, cigarettes, perfume, and sadness.

She kissed him then without preamble. She backed him up against the wall and kissed him long and hard and a little messily.

Randall let her. More than let her, until he started thinking. He wasn't sure for what reasons she wanted this, and it made him hesitate. He wanted it, but he wasn't sure what his reasons were either. Had he come back to Lix just to find his daughter? Maybe. Had he been thinking about Lix since he'd left her in Spain? Possibly. Did he want a meaningless one night stand and for her to go back to ignoring him? No.

He pulled away as Lix slid her hands inside his robe and began disarranging his pyjamas. She stopped when he did.

"What's the matter?" She kissed down his neck and Randall wrapped his arms around her, waiting.

She reached his collarbone and stopped suddenly, standing very still just where she was before yanking back.

"Fine. I'll go then."

She didn't move.

Randall gave her the out she needed, knowing she needed it. "Stay," he said. "For me. Please."

She nodded. Of course. Her fingers twitched, wanting their safety blanket of paper and nicotine.

"Come on," Randall said. "Come this way."

He led her through his flat to the bedroom.

"So you are going to take me up on my offer," she said.

"No," he said quietly. "Get undressed."

Lix kicked off her shoes and fumbled her way out of her clothes. She pushed away Randall's hands when he tried to help with the buttons on her blouse. "Stop. I can do it."

She stripped down to her underthings and stood there before him.

"What do you want now?" She said, challenging.

"Just get in," he said.

Lix obeyed, but only because she felt like she should lie down anyway. She slid between the covers on the right side of the bed and watched as he got in on the left. She moved into him then, arranging their bodies so that he was the big spoon. He started off unyielding, but drunk Lix stroked his arm and fingers at her stomach until he started to relax.

Lix passed out presently, and Randall stayed where he was for a while, before moving away gently and falling asleep too.

Lix woke suddenly. It was still dark and she couldn't have been asleep for very long. Her whole body was thrumming with alcohol and she could feel her heart beating fast and hard. She felt dehydrated and woozy. She reached for the glass of water Randall had left on the bedside table next to her head, downing half of it gratefully. Unfortunately, it only awoke the discomfort in her stomach.

"Ughn," she mumbled. She was going to be sick, like a teenager. She couldn't remember the last time she'd drunk enough to feel ill, much less vomit.

Lix stumbled out of bed to the bathroom, not really making it into a full standing position on the way. She sank down gratefully next to the toilet, dropping her head to the cool porcelain of the bathtub and waiting. It was either wait here or in bed and at least here she didn't have to worry about waking Randall by rolling around uncomfortably.

Too late.

Randall cracked the door open and stuck his head in. He left the light off. "Are you alright?"

Lix waved a hand in his general direction. Get out, it said. He didn't listen.

Randall came into the room and crouched down beside her, reaching out a hand to run it over her camisole down her spine. He didn't look at her bare legs.

"No," she said, without raising her head. "Get out. Please. This is too embarrassing."

Randall stroked her hair once, and retreated.

Satisfied he was gone, Lix was thoroughly sick.

Afterwards, she rinsed her mouth and crawled exhaustedly back into bed. She still felt terribly un-well, but no longer nauseous, which was a relief.

Randall didn't reach for her again, though he was awake. He stayed where he was, facing away. He thought Lix was going to stay where she was too, but after a moment, he felt her press up against his back, her arms tight to her chest between them. She laid her forehead against his shoulder and because she was so tired, it felt like the most comfortable place she'd ever been.

One thing Lix had enjoyed the most about aging was being old enough to properly process liquor. Hangovers were something that happened to other people. So waking up very hungover and in a bed not her own was disorientating.

It took her a long time to rise up to consciousness. She could tell by the light it was early morning. Her body felt empty and hollow. She wanted crackers, aspirin, and a cigarette. She wasn't alone in this unfamiliar bed.

Lix flickered the rest of the way into focus. She was in bed with Randall. He was asleep on his back and she had her arm slung lightly across his ribs. She remembered drinking glass of glass after whiskey alone in her office after leaving the hospital, and then thinking that visiting Randall would be a good idea. She remembered throwing herself at him, and then throwing up. She flushed with embarrassment and a disagreeable sensation of vulnerability. Lix Storm did not do embarrassment or vulnerability.

She wanted to leave. But forced herself to admit that being here wasn't so bad. Despite the too much whiskey and the awkwardness and the pain of lives unlived, being in Randall's presence was soothing. They didn't have to explain themselves to each other. There is a sense of relief in being with someone who knows who you are. History is hard to replace.

Lix moved away gently and sat on the edge of the bed. She started looking around for her clothes. Her head was pounding.

"You don't have to leave right now, if you don't want," said Randall's voice behind her.

It was tempting to stay, but nineteen years of smokescreen don't blow away so easily. "I have to go to the hospital to check on Freddie. And Bel. She probably hasn't eaten. I should bring her some food."

She felt Randall accept her lie without having to turn around. She did need news on Freddie but that wasn't why she was leaving. The fact that he didn't call her out on it made her grateful again for who he was.

"We could get a drink later, though," she heard herself say. "I mean, not a drink, we could, go to the café. Or dinner. If Freddie's alright."

"That would be nice," Randall said.

"Okay."

Lix got dressed gingerly and tried not to bend over too much. It made her dizzy.

At the doorway, she finally turned around. Randall sat half-way up, watching her.

"Thank you," she said.

She straightened a picture frame on his dresser that she'd knocked askew on her way into the room the night before.

He nodded. She nodded. She left.

They were each like glass, so close to breaking. They had to be careful lest they drop one another.


End file.
